The Playlist
by aBoyWillDo
Summary: Draco Malfoy finds an iPod. Hilarity ensues. New take on sonfics.
1. Hexing Hallway

A/N: This story was conceived during a rather colorful conversation with my BFF, TeenTypist. I don't own Draco Malfoy or any other ideas/characters borrowed from _Harry Potter_. Additionally, I don't own the song lyrics, either.

Draco Malfoy, Insulter Extraordinaire.

Draco Malfoy, Torturer of the Weak.

Draco Malfoy, Master of Finders-Keepers.

_You're damn right I am_, he thought to himself. _Now how will I amuse myself today?_

Draco prowled the halls arrogantly priding himself on his ability to make others suffer. He never wasted an opportunity to practice. Not that he needed practice, mind you. He _is_ a Malfoy after all and was obviously born with superior talents. He passed three second-year girls.

_No, too easy. Making girls cry isn't sport. I'm a gentleman. A _very_ good looking gentleman._

He hunted through the lesser-used halls hoping to find lost little first years. His search paid off rather quickly.

_Two first years. Boys. Hufflepuffs. Perfect. Almost too easy._ He contemplated moving on to targets more worthy of his talents, but a snake likes tiny mice as much as fat mice.

Draco leaned back against the wall, idly tapping his wand against his forearm. "You do know what hallway this is, don't you?" he asked.

"N-no," the smaller one stuttered.

"It's called the Hexing Hallway," Draco smirked.

"There's no such thing," the chubby one stated bravely.

"Oh, really?" _Serpensortia_ "Then how did those snakes end up at your feet?"

_And to think Crabbe scoffed at silent incantations. Not even that filthy Granger Mudblood could match this skill. _

Both boys squealed, and Draco laughed. Tubby tried to jump on Tiny, knocking them both over. Draco levitated the wands from their pockets before either had even thought of using them. Draco considered making the snakes slither over them but decided that was just too easy. With an imperceptible flick of his wand he spun the snakes into the air. They cascaded onto the boys, transforming to spatters of mud. The Hufflepuffs skidded as they squirmed their way to standing. The muck squelched their feet in place as they tried to back away from the Slytherin. Mud spatters changed to locusts. They swarmed after the boys as they ran down the hallway when their feet were freed. Their wands followed, poking them unceremoniously.

Draco looked curiously at a white object that had fallen from Tiny's bag and was now bouncing across the floor. He picked it up but almost dropped it as it prickled uncomfortably against his skin. _Almost_. Malfoys are not afraid of odd tactile sensations.

_Damn Muggles and their filthy eclectrickity. Can't even do magic. What a waste of existence_.

Draco was tempted just to smash the item but was far too curious to know what it did. He put it in his pocket instead.

XX

Draco stepped out of the shower with a towel around his waist. He posed in front of the mirror and admired himself. He ran his fingers through his hair to push each perfect blond strand into place. Once back in the dorm room, he picked up his folded clothes (one must keep things wrinkle free) and put them on. He brushed off invisible lint from his sleeves as he walked to class.

Draco had forgotten about the mysterious white gadget until it dropped from his pocket when he headed to dinner. One side of it flashed with light as it bounced on the stone floor. He would have jumped back, but a Malfoy is never startled. He wrapped his sleeve over his hand before picking it up. He was definitely not afraid to touch it, but one never knows what kind of Muggle filth it had been contaminated with. He hid the offensive item in his pocket and strode arrogantly into the Hall as though he weren't smuggling Muggle nastiness. He smirked when the Slytherin table's plates filled themselves.

"That is the reason Wizards are superior to Muggles," he boasted.

"Good biscuits?" Goyle said around a mouthful of food. Crumbs fell disgustingly from his mouth to the front of his robes.

"No, you stupid arse, plates that fill themselves. Muggles and their stupid repeated trips to the kitchens, tracking dirt everywhere. Idiots," Draco scoffed. He proceeded to Muggle-bash for the remainder of the meal. Coming from anyone else, it would have seemed like compensation for a guilty conscience, but Malfoys don't feel guilt and they certainly don't have reasons to compensate for anything.

XX

Late that evening, Draco sauntered quietly along the darker corridors. After all, he preferred the darkness. He certainly wasn't skulking about in the shadows. Malfoys never lower themselves to such common activities. He paced back and forth until the Room of Requirement showed its doors. With a dramatic flourish of his wand, he magicked them open.

Settled inside, he extracted the Muggle contraption from his pocket with a green and silver handkerchief. Cleanliness first. He set the odd object on the ground. _Nothing good comes from mixing with Muggles. Just look at the Weasleys. The epitome of disgrace. _

He considered stomping on it. However, Malfoys do not stomp like petulant children. They obliterate with superb magic like the talented Wizards they are. He hesitated. No, contemplated, never hesitated. _Damn this curiosity. _He still didn't know what to do with it. He squatted down to take a better look. The light was off again. First things first. He aimed his wand and muttered a spell. Nothing happened. Surely this stupid Muggle _thing_ must be broken. It certainly wasn't a problem with his spellwork. _Perhaps it only lights up when dropped_.

"Wingardium Leviosa." With a swish and flick, the Muggle _garbage_ rose. With another, it fell. It skittered across the floor. It lit up, but didn't do anything else. Draco still had no idea what it was for. He levitated and dropped it again, hoping it would do something else. It didn't, but when it fell at his feet he saw writing amidst the light. Maybe those stupid first years had a far superior Wizard charm this damn thing.

Pointing his wand again, he shouted the words from the screen. Nothing. Fed up, he jabbed the piece of shit with his wand. He definitely didn't jump when noise came out, and he certainly didn't fall over when the room spun around him.

Requests will be considered until the final chapter is posted. Feedback is always welcome. Please review.


	2. Crazy

A/N: This chapter is based on the music video "(You Drive Me) Crazy" by Britney Spears. I suggest watching it. Dedicated to TeenTypist. This is where it all began.

Draco sat up with his head ringing. Not his head. The ringing filled the room. Struggling to comprehend, no, no, _taking his time_, he stood on obviously steady feet. He swiveled around. Lights flashed in every corner and across the ceiling. And was that crap assaulting his ears supposed to be music? _What are these people doing in such _tacky_ outfits? Who cursed them into dancing like that?_ Then the tacky freaks surrounded him.

"This is driving me CRAZY," Draco yelled in his most dignified and clearly controlled manner. Dust swirled around him. _Muggle dust. Yuck. No. Not dust_. Glitter rained down on him. He looked down in horror as his perfectly tailored clothing was contaminated. His impeccable robes billowed around him and changed shape. He breathed a sigh of relief, or perhaps more of a forceful exhalation, when he saw that his creased slacks remained intact. He almost threw up, almost, Malfoys never do anything as vile as vomiting, when he saw what had happened to his pristine dress shirt. His upper body, part of it anyway, was encased in an uncomfortably tight green monstrosity, sadly too bright to resemble his Slytherin colors. The hideous garment left the milky skin of his belly bare. Draco prided himself on the appearance of his just-sexy-enough six pack (Well, his mentally-exaggerated six pack).

He was surprised to find that this dramatic wardrobe change had elicited no reaction from the people around him. Then again, _how could people who look like _that_ judge someone as superior as I_? While he criticized those around him, Draco's platinum hair lengthened into waves that cascaded around his shoulders. If Malfoys fainted, Draco would have done so in the most graceful manner; however, they don't.

"You drive me crazy" in Draco's voice echoed around, reverberating off the stone walls. **You drive me crazy. I just can't sleep. **His face tingled. He reached a hand up and felt his lips moving. Not just an echo. He was singing? _Oh, gods, I'm losing it. No, no. I'm taking an intentional hiatus from reality_.

**I'm so excited. **As he contemplated this hiatus, Draco's body began to dance in sync with the hideously dressed imbeciles crowded around him. The uncontrolled movement reminded him of an unfortunate incident involved in a bouncing ferret. _Don't tell me that one-eyed bastard is back_. Draco looked around for any sign of Moody or ferrets. He saw neither.

**I'm in too deep. **His scrawny, lean actually, body began to adjust to the motions. An astute observer might have suggested that he had stopped trying to fight it, but that would just be unproven conjecture. **Oh, oh, oh, crazy. **The observer might also claim to have seen some shoulder shimmying, but that would obviously be a mistake. Voldemort would join Dumbledore for tea if it were confirmed that a Malfoy's shoulders moved teasingly back and forth to the **oh, oh, oh** of Muggle music. **But it feels alright. **A talented pirouette twirled the Slytherin around. Blond locks billowed around his cheeks. **Baby, thinking of you keeps me up all night.**

With his hands on his hips, still swaying to the beat, Draco ruminated on that last line. Who was keeping him up all night? Absurd. There was no way that anyone could possibly occupy enough of a Malfoy's thoughts to deprive him of sleep. In fact, his beauty rest, more like effective nocturnal rejuvenation, was always quite undisturbed.

**Tell me, you're so into me. That I'm the only one you will see. **The idea of someone being more attractive than himself was so ridiculous that Draco became half a step off beat in his Muggle pop music dance. Well, it was more like he improved the dance. Malfoys don't take missteps after all. **Tell me, I'm not in the blue. That I'm not wasting my feelings on you. **The fortuitous deviation snapped Draco from Drive Me Crazy-land long enough for him to yell, not yell, exclaim. Loudly.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with you people?"

One ugly participant in terrible orange pants turned around at the interruption of what must have been, based on his enthusiasm, his favorite song. In his haste to identify the perpetrator, his foot kicked the damnable white thing into the crowd. Someone picked it up. The room spun again. All Draco managed to think before he hit the floor, or rather took a break, was _thank, gods, this is over_.


	3. Esteban

A/N: This chapter is based on "I Constantly Thank God for Esteban" by Panic! at the Disco.

Expecting to be on the floor of an empty room, Draco opened his eyes. Instead, he found himself seated around a banquet table in the midst of what can only be described as a Death Eater convention. The Dark Lord sat at the head of the table, red eyes gleaming. Death Eaters flanked him along the sides of the long table. Hands folded, heads bowed, they chanted. **Give us this day, our daily dose of faux affliction. Forgive our sins forged at the pulpit with**

"Enough," the Dark Lord commanded. "Enough with your **forked tongues selling faux sermons.** I will not tolerate blathering and excuses. Your pathetic and insincere profusion of apologies for your sins is disgusting. Apologizing is a sign of weakness and failure. Failure deserves to be punished. Nagini, here, is quite interested in her next meal. Do not fail me. There will be harsh and obdurate consequences, and there is much to be done. There has been some dissention in the ranks. You know who you are."

Draco froze in his chair. _Does he know?_ He subtly crossed his fingers. Were those tacky dancers really just Death Eaters in disguise? What would his father say about his pop-star impression? Would the Dark Lord _crucio_ him first? Or just _avada kadavra_ him? Draco would have quaked in fear, but that clashes greatly with his familial upbringing. Draco was ignored, perhaps unintentionally overlooked, as the Dark Lord continued his speech.

"When my _faithful_ servants begin their—inquiries—I shall find and —reprimand— the coward responsible for the suggestion box. If you cannot say it to me, it should not be said at all. _**I**_** am a new wave gospel**, and I will be obeyed. Until you have earned a place as my equal, which you will not, you have no power and no ideas. My ideas are law, **and you'll be thy witness.** My name has been abused in the most common way possible. The litter left in the box all begins with 'Dear Voldemort.' I refuse to retain a name that has been tainted by so many quills. I have a new moniker. I shall be known as Lord Esteban."

Unable to control himself, Draco sniggered. _What kind of name is Esteban_? The red eyes of the Dark Lord and the slitted eyes of Nagini swiveled toward his chair. Draco schooled his features to be a façade of submissive respect. The Death Eater in the chair to his left had the misfortune of hiccupping as the Dark Lord focused his attention. With a well-placed curse, the Dark Lord blasted the man into the air and exploded the chair beneath him. He slammed into the ceiling before smashing down onto the ruins of his seat. Draco sat scared-stiff, posturally-controlled, trying not to draw any more attention to himself. Stifled snickers echoed around the chamber.

"PATHETIC," the Dark Lord rumbled. "How dare you mock so feebly in my presence? I do not allow half-assery in scheming, torturing, adoration of me, name-calling¸ or MOCKERY. **Gentlemen, if you're gonna preach, for god's sake, preach with conviction**!"

An impressive thrust of the Dark Lord's wand shot a Dark Mark high over the meeting table. With reverent bows of their heads, the Death Eaters followed suit. Dozens of Dark Marks swarmed across the ceiling as the Death Eaters began to chant again. **Strike up the band. Whoa, oh, the conductor is beckoning. Come, congregation, let's sing it like you mean it. **

The Dark Lord orchestrated a macabre ballet of his emblems. The chanting intensified around him. **Come, congregation, let's sing it like you mean it. Come, congregation, let's sing it like you mean it.**

Draco mouthed along with the words, slightly off from the others as he struggled to remember the words. He reflexively ducked when a Mark circled over him. The mysterious white device was thrown into the air by his rough movement. It catapulted through the mouth of the Dark Lord's talisman. The room spun again. Draco gratefully accepted the gift of slumber when he met the floor as an _avada kadavra_ soared past his ear.


	4. Ladies' Choice

A/N: This vignette is based on "Ladies' Choice" from _Hairspray_.

Draco was pleased to find himself standing when he regained consciousness, or rather reacquainted himself with being awake. He looked down himself and found that he had been returned to his pristine Slytherin uniform. He was wrinkle-free and lint-free, an almost astounding state of affairs considering the amount of floor time he had been accruing. He ran a hand through his hair with the intention of perfecting the strands' arrangement, but found it slicked back and sprayed. One curl was styled against the pale (flawless) skin of his forehead.

His foot was tapping of its own accord. The urge to sing was rising like bile in his throat. _Oh, no. Not again… at least I look good this time. _He spun around smoothly. Two groups of adoring fans clustered on a dance floor, one wearing the smart silver and green of Slytherin and one dressed in the drab Gryffindor maroon and 'gold.' Though properly color-coordinated, the adorers were clad in tacky patterns and pathetically outdated styles. His hips were shaking in a steady rhythm, reminiscent of something familiar.

**Hey, little girl with the cash to burn. **His voice rang with a pretty-boy quality with which he was not all-together comfortable, or all-together uncomfortable. The girls in the audience seemed to enjoy this. Both fan-groups kept up a steady set of dance moves. Their ability to synchronize would have impressed most Wizards, but a Malfoy has higher standards. Always one to be admired, Draco continued.** Well, I got something you won't return. **He subtly looked around for this show-stopping product. He came up empty. Basking in the glow of adoration, he decided not to employ his extraordinary brain-power in the search of such petty information.** Hey, little girl, take me off the shelf. **The shrieking increased. The implications were not lost on our vocalist. _Damn right, you won't return me_, Draco thought smugly. '**Cuz it's hard having fun playing with yourself. Once you've browsed through the whole selection, shake those hips in my direction. **The Muggle sound-amplifying thing was getting some provocative Draco-dancing. No one in his audience seemed to find this the least bit disturbing or unpleasant.

Draco mentally congratulated himself for being drop-dead-sexy enough to sing this song without appearing silly. _How dreadful would it be if a complete _dud_ sang this song? Like Longbottom or Scar Head._ _Yes, not only am I a better Wizard, I am also better looking and a better singing sensation. _**A prettier package, you never did see.** **Take me home, and then unwrap me. **With the assuredness of a man who always knows, and gets, what he wants, Draco dropped the robe from his shoulders. The material cascaded down him, much to the delight of his fans. In a testament to his superior Malfoy undressing skills, the garment pooled an un-trippable distance from his feet.** Shop around, but little darling I've got to be, The Ladies' Choice. **_Who are you kidding, Muggle music? I'm _everyone's_ choice. _

**Hey, little girl looking for a sale. Test drive- **A chorus of screaming overwhelmed his voice. The sexual frustration of those attentive women was practically palpable. _Then, again, anyone who dresses like that certainly isn't getting any_. **-male. It's gonna take cash to fill my tank. So let's crack open your piggy bank. **At this point in the number, Draco began having some qualms about the content of this tribute to himself. He found that he was rather offended by the presumption that his (perfect) body could be bought by people who hopefully dress themselves in the dark and have no mirrors. **Hey, little girl going window shopping, I've got something traffic stopping. **He contemplated his potential for stopping traffic and concluded that such an outcome was highly likely, despite the whore-ish slight on his impeccable character. His lips continued the song with fading brain-power. **Hey, little girl on **he swayed indelicately, or, loosely, **a spending spree. I don't **The stage came up to greet him **come cheap, but the kisses **and he once again welcomed his friend sleep.


	5. Pretty Girl

A/N: Dramoine via "Pretty Girl" by Sugarcult

Draco found himself comfortably tucked into bed. A familiar green quilt was spread over him. The warmth was pleasant, and he dismissed his hallucinatory adventures as merely a nightmare probably caused by poison in his pumpkin juice. Damn house elves. He started to drift back to sleep, but he noticed an odd sensation. He was snuggled against, more like beside, a body still hidden by the blanket. He frowned as soft musical notes filtered in through invisible speakers. Draco grumbled aloud about vindictive house elves, and the mystery sleeper stirred. Female curves leaned into him. His curiousity brushed brown hair from her face. Hermione Granger's face, peaceful with relaxation, smiled up at him with closed eyes. He didn't know how his favorite late-night fantasy found her way into his bed, but poisoned-pumpkin juice or no, he was damn well going to enjoy it. He leaned to kiss her, but lyric-vomit came coursing through his mouth.

**Pretty girl is suffering while he confesses everything. Pretty soon she'll figure out what his intentions were about. **Unlike his last pretty-boy performance, Draco's voice was mellow and calm. Hermione opened her eyes. The lazy contention on her face turned to, dare we say, longing. He trailed his fingers along her jaw. **And that's what you get for falling again. You can never get him out of your head. **Hermione tangled her fingers in his blond hair and blushed innocently as the sheet slipped to reveal the top of lacy pajamas. Draco swore under his breath. **And that's what you get for falling again. You can never get him out of your head. **He really hoped that this despicable song-vomit would stop. It was interfering with his ability to seduce the fiery witch under him. She had been driving him crazy with a rivalry rife with sexual tension for years now. If she weren't friends with Scar Face, he was certain he'd have shagged her long before now. Her pink lips looked kissable. **It's the way that he makes you feel. **So kiss he did. He half expected repulsed rejection because of this twisted poison. But she responded with zest. She tugged him closer. **It's the way that he kisses you. **He let his hands skim her sides. He was so close to groaning when she arched her body into his. Close, but he refrained. A Malfoy can't be that easy to please. They do have standards, after all, even when sleeping with a (feisty) Mudblood. **It's the way that he makes you fall in love. **_Love?_ Draco thought. _This damned pumpkin poison has barely made me consciously acknowledge that she evokes anything but hatred and disgust. _He shivered. _Love_. The look in Hermione's eyes could have been love. Draco was good at most things, er, everything. Including interpreting the facial expressions of women. He was quite convinced that the vile substance he'd ingested (because the thoughts that he was (a) not perfect and (b) he hadn't actually been poisoned had never crossed his mind) had stolen some of his superior awesomeness. ** She's beautiful as usual with bruises on her ego, and killer instincts tell her to be aware of evil men. **_Not me, not me, not me,_ he chanted in his mind. **And that's what you get for falling again. **Hermione's eyes looked less amorous than moments before.This stupid Muggle song, that wasn't all that good anyway, was ruining his moment. **You can never get him out of your head. **He put on his best I'm-a-sex-god expression. He refused to be bested by Muggle anything. **It's the way that he makes you feel. **Hermione pulled him into a hug. She whispered something against his neck, but he couldn't make out the words. He didn't care. Her breath was warm and seductive. **It's the way that he kisses you. It's the way that he makes you fall in love. **She kissed him again. He was glad that he was given reprieve from lyrical nonsense. Too soon it returned. **Pretty girl is suffering while he confesses everything. **This song was getting on his nerves. He could see calculations whizzing through Hermione's brain as she seemed to realize just whose bed she was in. **Pretty soon she'll figure out you can never get him out of your head. **Things were not looking good. The fiery temper was returning to her eyes. **It's the way that he makes you cry. **He felt like his soul was being bared in a way that he never admitted to himself and continued to deny. _I'm good for her_, he challenged.** It's the way that he's in your mind. **_I don't hurt her. I'm not a taunting voice in her head_.**It's the way that he makes you fall in love. **A tortured love surrounded by hate. The cruelty of this pumpkin juice made him swear off beverages. Hermione faded away. He flung himself back into the pattern of oblivion.


	6. Horror of the Rocky Persuasion

A/N: Draco a la "Sweet Transvestite" from The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Seriously toned down for rating. Some verses have been omitted. They didn't fit well. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco opened his eyes to find himself standing, no bed in sight. He was allowing a small smile of relief to grace his features when he felt the cold stir of air against his skin. All of his skin. _Oh, bollocks,_ he thought, _I'm naked_. A glace down informed him that not only was he wrong, the truth was worse.

He was convinced that the soreness in his feet had nothing to do with the shimmery platform heels he had on. He would have preferred this slight on his masculinity be hidden beneath elegant Slytherin robes. This was not the case, and he was glad he was alone. Clinging to his, finely toned, legs were sheer, black stockings. Thigh-high they were secured by a garter belt that Draco was certain would have been more appropriate in his last hallucination. His…special parts… were feeling a bit confined; he was wearing what he could only describe as women's underwear. He refused to acknowledge that the silky material felt good against his sensitive skin. In fact, he was sure that wasn't the case at all. Clearly he was still feeling the sensations of his luxurious bed linens. The corset laced around his torso was tight and certainly did not resemble a comfortable hug.

The embarrassment flushing his body faded but returned full force when he turned around and found himself face to face with a crowd of Muggles? dressed more oddly than he. Considering his state, that was quite an accomplishment. He possibly could have preferred his upscale ladies' lingerie to the horrid vests, ill-fitting trousers, and gaudy hats, masks, and glasses. Yes, at least his attire was tasteful. Two dreadfully unattractive people stood gaping at him. A house elf, to be punished later no doubt, seemed to have led them to him.

**How d'you do, **Draco began, **I see you've met my faithful handyman. **_How faithful can he be if he brought these idiots to me?_** He's just a little brought down because when you knocked he thought you were the candyman. **_Like hell they are. That trashy woman looks like a slut, and her companion is probably a complete arsehole. _**Don't get strung out by the way that I look. Don't judge a book by its cover. **

To his chagrin, Draco did an effeminate, although perfect, 360. He tapped his foot knowing that the heels accentuated his legs. He could not fathom why he was doing these things because they definitely did not make him feel sexy. **I'm not much of a man by the light of day, but by night I'm one hell of a lover. **The moves Draco was making were too lewd for words. **I'm just a Sweet Transvestite from Transexual, Transylvania. **The Slut seemed to enjoy his dance. Her admiration was actually rather disgusting.****

**"I'm glad we caught you at home, could we use your phone?" **_Merlin, castles don't have telephones, Arsehole. _For some reason, the Arsehole thought that it would be appropriate to interrupt Draco's fabulous vocal rendition to ask a stupid question. A particularly aggressive pelvic thrust made the Slut shake and the Arsehole interrupt faster.** "We're both in a bit of a hurry. We'll just say where we are, then go **[sleep in]** the car. We don't want to be any worry."**

****

Draco raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. **So you got caught with a flat, well, how about that? **_Figures. An Arsehole like that._** Well babies, don't you panic. By the light of the night when it all seems alright, I'll get you a satanic mechanic. **_I'm not dancing. I'm not singing. I don't feel sexy. I'm not dancing. I'm not singing. I don't feel sexy._** I'm just a Sweet Transvestite from Transexual, Transylvania. **_Oh, Merlin. I'm dancing. I'm singing. And I feel sexy._ With those humiliating, and thankfully private, thoughts, Draco slithered to the floor. ****


	7. Panic! at the Fun She Has

A/N: Set to Panic! at the Disco's "Lying Is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have without Taking Her Clothes off." I'm asterisk-ing the f-word and moving the last chorus to the beginning; sorry to the purists. I'm doing my best to be tasteful, for once. For happygoluckyfull, thank you for the direction.

Draco stood and patted down his body. _Robes, thank all that is sinister, neutral, or even benign_. He looked around to orient himself and found…a cupboard. _Who am I? Harry Stupid Potter? In a damn cupboard._ He resolved to extricate himself from the offensive and Weasley-esque filth. He hadn't heard any music. Aside from the disgusting accommodations, he was relieved. He peeked through a discolored window to make sure he wouldn't put in an appearance at another Death Eater convention. He saw Pansy Parkinson with Adrian Pucey. _His_ Pansy Parkinson. He didn't know when the grubby closet had attached itself to her Prefect's bedroom. He decided to suffer the indignity of his confinement long enough to thoroughly investigate his girlfriend's questionable liaison. At the start of the music he almost swore loud enough to be discovered. Maybe. Because Pucey's athletic body was pressed against Pansy, and his tongue was sloppily trying to find the back of her throat. Neither seemed very observant.

**Let's get these teen hearts beating, faster, faster. **_And they were fast. _Not the hearts, their scandalous betrayal. Pucey's shirt was undone.** So testosterone boys and harlequin girls, will you dance to this beat and hold a lover close? **His girlfriend and his teammate? Sacrilege. Did the two of them realize who he was? The kind of social power he had? How he could make them more ridiculed than the Hufflepuffs? **So testosterone boys and harlequin girls, will you dance to this beat, and hold a lover close? **_And I have to endure this damn singing while watching this? Isn't one enough punishment? And, oh Gods, what is she wearing?_ Pansy was squeezed into a dress that was pink to the point of pain. It was too tight and too short; Draco deduced that she probably stole it from a younger Slytherin. _No, Slytherins do _not _own that color pink. She must have cursed a first year Hufflepuff into giving it to her. That does sound more Pansy-ish_.

**Is it still me that makes you sweat? **Draco was not jealous. **Am I who you think about in bed? **There was no way that he was jealous. No way. Not possible. **When the lights are dim and your hands are shaking as you're sliding off your dress? **That feeling in his stomach was certainly not jealousy. Absolutely not. **Then I think of what you did. **It must be the feeling of disgust at allowing some bitch with poor manners and apparently low standards in bed partners to touch his flawless body. **And how I hope to God he was worth it. When the lights are dim and your heart is racing as your fingers touch his skin. **Though no one's there to see him, Draco stood a bit taller, a bit straighter. **I've got more wit, a better kiss, a hotter touch, a better f~~~ than any boy you'll ever meet, sweetie, you had me. **He was _better_ than this. Better than _them_. ** Girl, I was it, look past the sweat, a better love deserving of exchanging body heat in the passenger seat. No, no, no, you know it will always just be me. **For a brief unthinkable, and later denied, moment Draco imagined that Pansy was moaning his name.**  
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**In case I lost my train of thought, where was it that we last left off? **But no, Pansy was repeating Pucey's name in a cheap imitation of her actual passion-voice. _How stupid can that boy be?_ Draco wondered. **Oh now I do recall, we were just getting to the part where the shock sets in, and the stomach acid finds a new way to make you get sick. **If there were a reason for Draco to be jealous of their poor taste and obviously unworthiness, he would have felt the bile rising in his throat. However, as he was absolutely not jealous at all that his Pansy Parkinson had left him for that pathetic excuse for a replacement, he figured he just had heartburn. **I hope you didn't expect that you'd get all of the attention. Now let's not get selfish, did you really think I'd let you kill this chorus? **Draco had every intention of bursting out of the cupboard and humiliating the pair with all he was worth. In his hasty rush forward, he fell flat through the door into another black out.****


	8. The Finale

Draco woke up on the floor of the Room of Requirement. He rubbed his head hoping to relieve the aching pain that plagued him. The Muggle rubbish was beside him on the floor. He stood. Looking down he saw that the little object was still lit up. When music started pouring out he raised his foot to stomp on the damn thing. He stopped in a comical pose on one foot. He was hearing his voice again, but it wasn't coming from his body. The white thing on the floor sounded like him.

**They're making movies about my years at Hogwarts. **_Well, that's interesting_.** And they had to pick just the right one to represent me on the silver screen. **_I like silver, but I doubt this Muggle thing could find someone good enough to pretend to be me. _**And I've gotta say they've got it spot on. **_Well, that's a surprise_. **'Cause he's a swell guy we all like a lot. **_I've never really thought of myself as likeable. I really think of myself more as adored. _**And he's got it going on with those baby blues he's got. **_Interesting. _The Muggle thing lit up with a picture of an unknown blond man.Much to his surprise, the last lines came from Draco himself. **And even though I'm straight I'm not ashamed to say, Tom Felton's kinda hot.**

-Fin-

A/N: It is here our saga ends. Thanks for reading. Lyrics by Draco and the Malfoys "Tom Felton's Kinda Hot."


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